Author's POV

Niranjan Singhania stood motionless in his study, hands clasped tightly behind his back. His eyes were fixed on the distant stars outside the window, but it was clear he wasn't truly seeing them.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence. Siya stood at the threshold, waiting briefly before stepping inside. She found him with his back still turned to her, the quiet tension in the room almost palpable. His voice, when it came, was low and detached, slicing through the stillness.

"The file is on the table. There's a meeting tomorrow, and you'll attend in Abhiram's place," he stated. I don't think he can leave now. The last words he said to himself.

Siya's gaze drifted to the desk as she quietly picked up the file.

"Agnihotri will be there as well. Keep that in mind."

"Ji," she replied simply, her voice steady.

She lingered for a moment, as though on the verge of speaking, but the words never came. Just as she turned to leave, his voice halted her once more.

"Make some ginger-filled, strong tea."

Siya turned to him, her expression surprised, as she processed his unusual request.

"Like the one Maa prefers?" she asked, her eyebrows arching in innocent curiosity.

Niranjan understood the reason behind her question better than anyone. He rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes briefly as he let out a quiet sound of agreement.

"Okay, I'll make sure Maa gets it," Siya responded before leaving the study, carefully closing the door behind her.

As she stepped out, it dawned on her that the tea wasn't for him-it was for Maa, who must be suffering from a headache.

Her gaze fell on the file in her hand, the name Agnihotri catching her eye.

"I hope this doesn't turn into a disaster," she thought to herself.

---

Another place

The club was packed, the atmosphere thick with noise and energy. The blaring music assaulted the ears of the man who had just stepped inside. He took a moment to survey the scene, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with a single glance.

His gaze locked onto a girl on the dance floor, completely lost in the rhythm. Nearby, others danced and laughed, but she was in a world of her own.

Intrigued, he moved forward and settled into a seat, his eyes never leaving her. A waiter appeared, placing a drink in front of him before quickly disappearing back into the throng.

He picked up the glass, taking a slow sip as his dark, intoxicating eyes drank in every detail of her body.

After a while, the girl left the dance floor and made her way back to her table. She had come here with a friend, hoping to distract herself from the turmoil that had plagued her mind for months, leaving her unable to focus on anything else.

She wore a short, tight dress that clung to her, accentuating every curve.

The man rose from his seat, his eyes shadowed with something dark and dangerous as he followed her every movement.

He reached her just as she was about to turn, and in one swift motion, he grabbed her hand and pulled her close. The girl suddenly found herself in someone's arms, struggling to see him clearly through the haze of club lights and the effects of too much alcohol.

He leaned in, his mouth close to her ear, his hands sliding to her waist, drawing her even closer. Mistaking him for her friend, she wrapped her arms around his neck, swaying with him to the beat of the music.

He brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, his hand grazing her cheek lightly. Before long, the girl's eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into his chest, unconscious.

But the man held her firmly, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

He carried her out of the deafening club, the noise fading as they reached his car.

Gently, he placed her in the passenger seat and looked down at her sleeping face, a cold smile tugging at his lips. "You've troubled me enough, darling," he murmured.

'But... not anymore.'

With that, he settled into the driver's seat and started the car, driving away towards her house.

After a while, the car rolled to a stop in front of a grand, opulent mansion, its sheer luxury evident in every detail. The man took a moment, gazing at the girl beside him, her face peaceful in sleep. He couldn't resist savoring the sight-he hadn't seen her this close in a long time. This moment was something he wanted to capture, to remember.

He reached for his phone and made a call, his eyes never leaving her. The person on the other end picked up after a few rings, and after a brief exchange, the call ended. Moments later, the mansion's gates swung open, and he drove inside, parking the car.

Stepping out, he moved to her side and gently lifted her in his arms. Carrying her to the mansion's entrance, he waited for the door to open.

A woman answered, her face tight with concern as she saw her daughter. Without a word, he carried the girl inside, heading straight to her bedroom, where he carefully laid her down on the bed.

He paused, taking in her serene beauty. His hand moved on its own, brushing her hair back from her face, a soft touch against her skin. Just as he was about to step away, she stirred, her fingers curling around his hand in her sleep.

He froze, looking at her again. Her grip was gentle but firm, as if she sensed his presence even in her dreams. Slowly, he freed his hand, being careful not to wake her, his movements tender and deliberate.

"This time, I will come to take you with me forever..." he whispered, his voice barely audible, a promise to himself.

He stood up, removed her heels, and pulled a blanket over her, tucking her in with a final glance. There was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before, but only for a fleeting moment.

Turning away, he left the room and exited the mansion. As he settled back into his car, he caught a glimpse of the nameplate through the side mirror: Agnihotri. The sight of it seemed to harden his resolve.

Without another look back, he sped away, the car disappearing into the night.

---

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Angad lay peacefully in bed, his face turned to one side. As he stirred awake, he groggily opened his eyes just a sliver, intending to go back to sleep. With a sleepy smile, he muttered, "Good morning, Dad," his voice low and drowsy.

"Morning..."

The loud, clear voice jolted him fully awake. His eyes snapped open, and he quickly turned towards the sound, he found Abhimaan Singhania sitting casually on the sofa, engrossed in a magazine.

For a moment, Angad wondered if he was still dreaming, but the stern presence of his father in front of him confirmed reality. Startled, he scrambled to sit up, running a hand through his messy hair in an attempt to compose himself.

His father's serious expression immediately put Angad on edge. His mind raced, trying to figure out what he could have done to bring his father to his room so early in the morning. Did he find out about my fight with Aadir? Or maybe about my injured hand? Damn it, if Dad knows, I'm going to strangle Khanna for sure... Angad's thoughts were interrupted by his father's voice.

"I hear that you are going to marry."

Angad's heart sank. He found out. He cursed under his breath, but quickly forced a smile onto his face, trying to play it cool. "Dad, well, um..." he began, his voice trailing off as he met his father's sharp gaze.

There was a heavy silence between them, filled with the weight of unsaid words.

Abhimaan's voice broke the quiet, his tone deceptively calm. "How is she?"

Angad, still trying to think of the right words, stumbled into a response. "Yes, she does everything, she cooks, she cleans, she knows how to handle everything."

Abhimaan's eyes narrowed, and with a hint of sarcasm, he tossed the magazine aside and asked, "Are you describing your wife or a housemaid?"

The sharpness of his father's words cut through Angad's attempts at deflection. The smile that had been plastered on his face faded away as he realized this conversation was not going to be as easy as he'd hoped.

Abhimaan stood up from his seat and slowly walked over to Angad. As he reached out, gently brushing aside the strands of hair that had fallen into his son's eyes. Angad looked up at him, the tension between them easing slightly in the quiet moment.

"Why didn't you leave the co-" Abhimaan began, but Angad cut him off.

"Dad, I'm serious." Angad reached up and took his father's hand, holding it tightly for a moment before he buried his face into it. His voice was muffled as he continued, "I miss you. You're meeting me after months, and the first thing you do is scold me." There was a hint of a complaint in his tone, but it was layered with a deep longing.

Abhimaan's stern facade finally cracked, his eyes softening as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Angad's head. "Hmm, now my good morning starts," he murmured. This brought a small, genuine smile to Abhimaan.

"Come fast," Abhimaan added as he straightened up.

"Okay," Angad replied, watching his father walk out of the room.

---

As everyone gathered in the living room after breakfast, "We need to call the wedding planners," Drishti said, hinting towards Angad's upcoming wedding.

Before anyone could respond, Angad spoke up. "Actually, Chachi, the arrangements have already been made."

Everyone turned to him, confusion written across their faces.

"I mean, I've already chosen a wedding planner. She should be arriving any moment now," he clarified.

The room fell into stunned silence, and everyone stared at him as if he had suddenly grown two heads.

"Kuch jyada jaldi nahin ho rahi, Angad?" Aadir, who was sitting beside him, muttered, noting everyone's reactions. Mentally, he thanked God that no elder man was present to add to the tension.

"Who's she?" Antara asked, her curiosity piqued.

"She's Badi Maa's best friend's daughter-Riya," Angad replied.

Drishti's mind immediately clicked, and she smirked.

Just then, a servant entered the room. "Ma'am, someone named Riya Banerjee has arrived."

"Let her in," Angad nodded, and the servant left.

A few moments later, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, and everyone looked up to see a beautiful girl with a pretty smile walking in.

Antara, seeing her face, felt a flicker of recognition but couldn't quite place her. Meanwhile, a playful smile tugged at Drishti's lips.

"Come, Riya. Sit," Drishti said warmly.

Riya was slightly confused hearing her name spoken so familiarly but nodded and settled down on a nearby sofa.

Antara muttered to herself, "Siya's best friend's daughter..."

Drishti, who was sitting beside her, couldn't resist stirring the pot further. "Arey Maa, you've forgotten. She's the same girl who slapped Angad in childhood. Remember when Angad pulled that little girl's hair, and she started crying? In anger, she hit and bit him!"

Antara's eyes widened as the memory came rushing back to her.

"WHAT?!" Angad shouted, feeling as if his soul had just left his body.

"What!" "What!" Two more voices, those of Aadir and Divit, echoed in shock as they reacted simultaneously.

Riya's head snapped towards them, her eyes wide with disbelief. She quickly stood up, fumbling with her words. "No, sir! I never slapped you!"

Antara said remembering. "Oh, she did! I still remember how much that poor girl cried, and she even said she'd never return to this house after that day."

                          ******

🦋❤️ 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀❟ "𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝗼 𝗳𝗮𝗿?"

𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂:

𝟭｡ 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗯 𝗮𝗿𝗲?

𝟮｡ 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲?

𝟯｡ 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗥𝗶𝘆𝗮 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗔𝗻𝗴𝗮𝗱'𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝘀𝗼 𝗳𝗮𝗿?

𝟰｡ 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘂𝗽 𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘄?

𝟱｡ 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗡𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗷𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗮?

𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘀❟ 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲❟ 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘆-𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘀｡"

🦋